


Haute Cuisine

by je_suis_le_petit_lapin



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Is that a thing, M/M, Macro/Micro, Mouthplay, Vore, can i tag it ''mouthplay'', i guess that's what's going on here, kinda vore?, like he doesn't actually get eaten but, micro!spy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-03
Updated: 2015-07-03
Packaged: 2018-04-07 09:51:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4258863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/je_suis_le_petit_lapin/pseuds/je_suis_le_petit_lapin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What do you do when you have a tiny Spy and you haven't had breakfast yet?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Haute Cuisine

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SavoryScotsman](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SavoryScotsman/gifts).



> well since tastytexan Is Cool and also has Had A Birthday, it's only right to grant him some smutty micro fic, right?

Everything was pitch black.

Everything was pitch black and vaguely smelly and when Spy stood up he hit his head and fell onto something soft, so he thought it was probably for the best if he just lay there until he could find out what was happening.

An hour passed. Two hours, maybe, but then his prison started to shift and a bar of light appeared in the corner, and...

Oh no. _Fuck_ no.

Sniper's smirking face, his giant smirking face, and then his giant hand was reaching in to grab Spy, and Spy could barely spare a thought as to why Sniper was so big, he had to run, hide, anywhere, and when he picked up what he was laying on he finally realized where he was.

He was holding Sniper's underwear. He was in Sniper's underwear drawer, holding Sniper's briefs to his face in a desperate attempt to hide. The thought of anything that had touched Sniper's cock touching his lips and he almost retched, which gave Sniper a convenient time to grab Spy's torso and yank him out of the dresser.

“Well, look what we got here!” Sniper bellowed, as if he wasn't the person who put Spy in his underwear drawer to begin with. “Gonna have some fun with you!”

Spy had a lot of questions about why he was so small, what “fun” constituted, and why he would want to do any of it with Sniper, but when he opened his mouth only one thing he could only spit one sentence out. “You put me in your underwear drawer?”

A chuckle turned into a belly laugh, and Spy was shaken rather roughly in Sniper's fist. “That's what you're concerned about? Usually the question I get is 'why am I so tiny? What did you do to me?' Shoulda known you'd be worried about the cleanliness, though, little ponce.”

Spy wanted to question that, too, if it meant that Sniper had done this to people before. When he took a breath to ask, though, he could taste the scent that had been surrounding him earlier and he gagged, which set Sniper off again.

All this shaking was going to give him a headache.

When Sniper had finally calmed down enough to listen to him, Spy was irate. He swung his knee up and smirked when it connected with Sniper's knuckle with a tiny thud. Preparing to do it again, he was cut off when Sniper squeezed his stomach and brought him up to his face, still snorting.

“Little man's getting angry now, is he?” The sheer smugness of Sniper's voice grated against Spy's ears, and he tried to knee Sniper again. Sniper laughed again, using his thumb to stroke the back of Spy's head. “Someone's a grumpy little fella.”

“You filthy, disgusting, vile bush-” He didn't get to finish his insult, because Sniper cocked his head back and spat.

Even if Spy hadn't been talking, Sniper's saliva would've coated most of his face, but a few stray drops got into his mouth and he froze.

“How's that for vile, spook?” Playfulness gone from his voice, Sniper curled his upper lip and stared at the tiny man in his hand, who was still trying to clear his mouth. The high-pitched sounds of tiny gagging hit Sniper's ears as spit drizzled onto his hand.

Spy was so caught up in choking and spitting that he barely noticed Sniper carrying him to the kitchen section of his van until Sniper bent over in front of his mini-fridge. Reaching in to shove beers and a half-empty jar out of the way, Sniper started muttering to himself.

“What's it you put on French bread? Butter? Garlic? Cheese?” But the only thing behind the beers was more beers, and Sniper sighed as he straightened up again and walked over to the counter. With a yelp Spy was lain on the counter, and Sniper pulled a knife out of the drawer below. When Sniper brandished it above him, Spy squirmed anew and Sniper rolled his eyes.

“I'm not gonna cut you, not unless you don't. Stop. Squirming.” Sniper punctuated his words with a few taps of his finger to Spy's head. He steadied the knife again and Spy went stock-still as Sniper grabbed his shirt and brought it up to cut down the front. His dress shirt fell open, and Sniper used his free hand to lift Spy up and peel away at his ruined shirt and jacket. Flipping him over, Sniper pressed him back down into the counter with two fingers and flicked the tip of the knife over the butt of Spy's pants. Spy had to thrust forward to avoid getting nicked with the knife, but he wasn't expecting it when Sniper grabbed the cut-apart pant legs and hoisted them up, pushing Spy onto his face.

After he was done peeling his Spy, Sniper flipped him over onto his backside and admired his handiwork. The counter was making Spy shiver, and Sniper tossed his knife to the side and scooped his little morsel up. He lifted Spy up close and stared at his little angry face, open lips and grit teeth.

And then he opened his mouth and popped Spy in, head first.

Not wanting to repeat his mistake from when Sniper spit on him, Spy clamped his mouth shut when he noticed Sniper's mouth rapidly approaching. As his head slid past Sniper's lips, he squeezed his eyes shut as well, which turned out to be not a moment too soon as Sniper's tongue pressed up against the roof of his mouth.

Spy held his breath and tried to wiggle back out of Sniper's mouth, but his efforts were quashed when Sniper squeezed his lips around Spy's knees. Sniper rolled the tip of his tongue from Spy's cock to his chin and wrapped two fingers around his ankles, before yanking him out through his pursed lips.

“Got a bit of musk to ya, it's tasty.”

He pressed Spy to his lips and darted the tip of his tongue out to lick Spy's slippery chest. Spy's flailing legs spread his own spit across his chin, and he tried curling up to get Sniper's tongue away from his torso. Grinning, Sniper used his free hand to crumple his tiny treat up further and opened his mouth wide, despite Spy's protests. Spy scrambled to grab onto a finger, or a thumb, but Sniper tilted his head back and then he was dropped in, foot knocking against Sniper's lip and face planting against his tongue.

After his face, his whole body flopped down across the flat expanse of Sniper's tongue and it sprung to life, tip trailing up his legs and towards his crotch. Spy's dick stirred slightly at the contact, and he quickly snapped his legs together, but Sniper's tongue was already stuck in there, wiggling. As Spy's tiny cock started to stiffen, Sniper's lips pulled into a smile and he doubled his efforts, swirling around Spy's balls and trailing spit on his abs.

Even though Spy was half in shock and half livid, his body was responding eagerly to the attention. His cock was already mixing precum with the mess coating him and Sniper swallowed when he tasted the first salty drop. Spy was pushed around in Sniper's mouth, but his tongue didn't let up, and soon he was squirming for an altogether different reason.

As Sniper traced a lazy line from base to tip, Spy started to thrust his hips forward over Sniper's tongue. He was almost straddling it now, thighs squeezing into the sides to rut against it desperately. His upper body flopped down and he hugged Sniper's tongue for dear life, wiggling his hips along the slick surface.

Sniper could tell he was close from the erratic writhing, and opened his mouth wide again to stick his tongue out. He pressed three fingers on the small of Spy's back and ground him in further, staring down the bridge of his nose at the tiny man splayed out. Spy was close, too close, and then he was gone, spraying tiny white droplets over Sniper's tongue.

Sniper barely gave him a moment to relax before Sniper was plucking the small man off his tongue, darting it in to clean it off before flashing Spy another infuriating smirk.

“I still hate you.”, but the venom was gone from his voice, as was the energy, and anything that would've made that sentence sound convincing at all.

“Sure you do, spook,” Sniper chuckled. “Sure you do.”


End file.
